


The Bear and The Wolf Fair

by Tasseomancy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasseomancy/pseuds/Tasseomancy
Summary: idk man it's just some sansa/tormund drabbles what yall want me to say





	1. Kissed by Fire

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from asoiafrarepairs:  
> Tormund x Sansa He likes that she’s kissed by fire. He also likes how soft she is on the outside, but how strong she is on the inside. BAMF Sansa.

 

“ You know what we call us? Up north?”

 

“This is the North” she cuts in, but her tone is warm

 

He weaves a strand of long silky red hair between his calloused fingers absently, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

“ _Kissed by fire_. That’s what we are. We’re lucky.” His voice is a low rumble that easily pierces the din of the hall while still somehow feeling private.

 

She only tamps down on her smile only out of habit.

 

“Oh? Really? Because I don’t think I’d consider myself very lucky.”

 

He snorts. “ Only stupid cunts walk around thinking they’re the luckiest man in the world. You _are_ lucky. Everything that’s happened to you and you’re still here while the rest are in the ground or worse. Lucky. ” He nods towards her, brow raised. “ And skilled. And strong as shit.”

 

She laughs at that. “ I’ll accept skilled but strong? No. I couldn’t lift a sword if I tried, and I have. I think you’re starting to think of yourself.”

 

Tormund snorts again, like a parry to her own attempt at deflection.His clear blue eyes pining her down as effectively as any arrow. Dimly Sansa registers his fingers still toying with her hair.

 

“Aye you won’t be winning any fist fights any time soon but you’ve got proper strength.A real women’s strength. You’re as much of a delicate southron lady as I am pretty wolf. You’ve got the look of a proper lady and the better teats between us but you’re not a pushover, you don’t let these lords and little shits walk over you like a weak willed little girl. You’re tough, don’t pretend you’re not.”

 

His eyes seem glint with respect and Sansa can feel a rare genuine flush in her cheeks, one of pride, pleased by the earnest compliment and the warmth in his gaze. Tormund was a good man— wild, unkempt and at times offensive to more refined sensibilities— but good and kind and far, far sweeter than she’d ever have anticipated upon their first meeting. He’s honest, brutally so, and genuine. A good true man and his words mean more to her than she would have thought back at castle black.

 

It’s good to see pride and respect for the strength she’s forged for herself from someone like him, someone who’s seen a lot of it in all shapes. There’s something powerful, bone deep, about having something so many seem to not realize is there acknowledged and have it acknowledged by someone who is themselves known for it.

 

She smiles truly. “ Thank you, Tormund. You're too kind.”

 

He grins, eyebrows waggling. “ I am, but only to pretty women.”

 

Sansa laughs and swats at him at him playfully.

 

He laughs as well, giving the lock of hair in his grasp a little tug.

 

“It’s a good shade, deep and rich. Beautiful.”

 

She reaches out and takes a curl of his in hand. “ And I like yours— it’s bright and vibrant, like you.”

 

His head tilts as it so often does, this time into her hand, but his gaze never leaves hers. He takes that captive lock up to his lips and kisses it.

 

“Gods you’re a danger girl.”


	2. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted.....something with her sewing.........idk man.......

Tormund invites himself into her solar— as usual the man has little consideration for doors that aren’t to bedrooms or privies— while she’s embroidering. Something she still loves to do even now after everything. It’s soothing and the results are always satisfying.

 

He sits down in the chair near hers at the fire, leaning over to see what she’s working on and whistles low as he takes it in.

 

“You’re good. Better than anything I’ve seen.”

 

She smiles somewhat smugly at that down at her needlework.

 

Sansa’s glad for his obvious interest, it gives her the perfect opening to give him something she’d been sitting on for weeks now waiting for the Free Folk to return this way again.

 

“ Why thank you Tormund. I’m glad you like it since—” She puts down her current work on the table for it beside her and gets up just enough to lean over and pull out the neatly folded surprise she’s had at the ready. “I made you this—”

 

She hands it to him and really it’s astonishing how a grown man _that large_ can act exactly like a child when given a gift. He takes it with a grin and unfolds it quickly revealing the fine woolen tunic she’d made, a lightly speckled cream weave, her red embroidery stands out against it wonderfully.

 

His intake at the sight is loud as he takes it in, adjusting his hold on it to better look at the detail at the collar and not the whole tunic.

 

“I had to guess so it might not be the right size but now that you’re here I can make alterations if needed.”

 

As if that was an invitation Tormund immediately begins to strip off his upper layers leaving Sansa in a lurch staring stupidly at his increasingly exposed chest.

 

it’s…… a very large one….muscular and hairy……and very nice…… distinctly….masculine…

 

She’s seen shirtless men before but generally not so— swiftly. It throws her for a moment, she genuinely had not anticipated he’d just toss his clothes off not even 5 minutes in the room just to try the damn thing on. She supposes that’s a compliment in and of itself.

 

He laughs at her staring, flexing at bit at he throws the last of his layers to the floor. He winks down at her before bringing the new tunic over his head and she snorts rolling her eyes.

 

Honestly.

 

She gets up to circle him to make sure everything sits correct as he looks at the tall cuff of embroidered bears and other elements both aesthetic and personal on the sleeves. The fit, to her continued smugness, is good. Her guesses about his size were within a reasonable enough range that it’s comfortable to wear and still looks handsome on him. Satisfied, she goes to return to her seat but he catches her with one large arm and holds her to him at his hip. She feels a jolt go through her and her heart catch in her throat, but not in a bad way.

 

“ You trying to woo me pretty wolf?Because it’s working. I’m feeling very wooed.”

 

His tone is light, joking but it’s not hard for her to see the obvious affection in his eyes. The fondness. It makes her smile.

 

“Maybe I am. I just knew I wanted to give you something, something I made.”

 

“I see wolves next to the bears.”

 

“Well, you are very fond of wolves aren’t you?”

 

She is absolutely insufferably smug looking right now and she knows it and she doesn’t care.

 

He laughs and it reverberates through her, his hold on her tightening just a bit as he laughs.

 

“Aye, very much so. Especially pretty red ones.”

 

He places a kiss on her head and she grins into her own handiwork enjoying the warm radiating from him.

 

“Thank you Sansa.”


End file.
